


The Difficult Kind

by sister_wolf



Series: Forest of the Night [4]
Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2000-08-01
Updated: 2000-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The baby left on the doorstep... is a tiger cub.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is UNFINISHED and will never be finished. Unfortunately, it ends at a really bad place in the plot.
> 
> Warning for discussion of attempted suicide and suicidal ideation.

Prologue:

Bobby Drake, X-Man in training, had awakened that morning with a craving for Coke and Twinkies for breakfast.  So it happened that he was the closest person to the front door when the doorbell rang at precisely 9:15 a.m.

It took his sleep-fuddled mind a few moments to realize that no one was standing at the door when he opened it.  Bobby scratched his head absently and wondered if he'd imagined the doorbell ringing.

He started to close the door, then heard a small squeaky noise from around the vicinity of his moose slipper-clad feet.  There was a small basket on the doorstep, covered with a soft white blanket.  The squeak had come from under the blanket.

Bobby looked around nervously, his years at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters (or Mutant High, as the students called it) having left him rather paranoid about unexpected gifts.  But the squeaky noise caught his attention again, and so he reached out a hand and carefully pulled up the edge of the blanket.

Baby-blue eyes blinked sleepily up at him as he pulled the blanket aside.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest little baby in the world," Bobby crooned.  "Hey, there's a note…"

Vy and Logan slouched companionably at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, reading the paper, and to all appearances ignoring each other completely.  Sharp-eyed (or very short) observers might have noticed that, under the table, a tiger-striped foot and a cowboy boot-clad foot were engaged in a game of footsie.  Further observation might have led to the realization that her long, fluffy tail had trailed across his leg and was engaged in somewhat naughty exploration of his lap… but by that point any observer who had gotten THAT close would probably have received a pointy cowboy boot to the head.

Just at that moment, a rumpled, pajama-clad Bobby Drake burst through the kitchen door, clutching a blanket-covered basket in his hands.

"Vy!" he shouted excitedly.  "Somebody left you a tiger cub!"

"What?" Vy demanded.

Bobby shoved the basket in front of her.  "Look!"

In the basket, curled up in a soft blanket, blinking sleepy blue eyes, was indeed a small tiger cub.

"See?  It's addressed to you!" Bobby crowed.  
              
He pointed out a small piece of paper pinned to the blanket by a safety pin.  Typewritten on it was a short message: "Vy-Congratulations.  It's a boy! - S."


	2. Chapter 2

I stared down at the basket.  "Bobby, this had _better_ not be another practical joke."

He looked hurt.  "I wouldn't play a joke like this.  I've got _some_ taste, you know."

"Taste?  Bobby?  Yeah, right," Jubilee cackled, sweeping into the kitchen in an oversized tee shirt with a broken heart emblazoned on the front.  "Ohmigod!  Is that a tiger kitten?  That is _so_ cute!"

"Cub," I corrected her automatically, still staring at it.

"Is it yours?"  She wiggled her fingers at it, cooing.

"No," I said automatically, at the same time as Logan answered, "Yes."

"Cool," she said nonchalantly, and wandered toward the fridge.

"What do you mean, yes?" I demanded.

"He smells like ya, darlin'."

"That is like, so totally romantic, not!  Eeeuw," Jubilee called.  We ignored her.

"It smells like a tiger," I said, scowling at Logan.

"Nope," he said, picking up the cub gently.  They sniffed each other curiously, then he settled the cub against his chest.

I had to admit, it was an adorable sight, my tough, dangerous lover cuddling the cub gently in his arms.  I crossed my arms, trying to salvage my reputation as a hard-nosed bitch.  I was not about to go all marshmallow over some creature that had probably been cooked up in Sinister's lab.  "It's some sort of clone or something.  Look, you know it had to come from Sinister."

Logan scratched the cub behind its ears, gazing at me soberly.  "He ain't a clone, honey.  The note wasn't lyin'.  We can go down ta Hank's lab fer a gene scan, but it'll tell ya the same thing my sniffer's sayin'.  He's yer son."

"Whoah," Bobby mumbled.  

"Dude!  That's so cool!"  Jubilee shrieked.

I really couldn't say much of anything, as all my muscles felt like they'd been locked into some sort of weird paralysis and I was having trouble breathing, or thinking, or moving.

***

"Well, I'm happy to tell you that your son is very healthy, not to mention completely adorable," said Jean, cuddling the cub in her arms.

"However, I am a bit concerned that you may be in danger of hyperventilating, Vy," added Hank, gently taking my elbow and steering me toward a chair.

"Um," I replied quite intelligently.

Logan sat down next to me, sliding his arm around my shoulder.  I leaned against him gratefully.

Hank leaned against a counter facing us.  "DNA analysis has confirmed that Vy's genes comprise approximately 50% of the cub's genetic makeup."

"An' the other half?" Logan asked.

Hank bounced on his toes, practically bursting with enthusiasm.  "I believe that the other half is from Victor Creed.  I had the opportunity to analyze his genetic makeup while he was in our custody two years ago.  He really is a fascinating case.  While Vy's genes include some tiger DNA, his genes include some feline DNA that I was unable to identify positively.  This is due to the fragmentary state of the existing genetic material that I was able to compare to Creed's.  My hypothesis is that Creed's feline DNA is derived from that of the cave lion, which co-existed with archaic Homo sapiens during the Paleolithic era.  I am unsure as to the source of this foreign genetic material.  One possibility is that a parasitic vector carried a retrovirus which ensured its own survival by replacing random segments of host DNA with chunks of DNA picked up from previous hosts.  But I see that I have digressed."  He shoved his Ben Franklin glasses up from their precarious perch on the end of his nose.

"Do you want to hold him, Vy?" Jean asked gently.

"I… I guess so," I answered hesitantly.

The cub was surprisingly heavy for its size.  I held it gingerly.  It yawned at me and then laid its head down on my arm, snuffling quietly.  Its warm, furry body went limp as it fell asleep in my arms.

I felt a confusing mix of emotions as I gazed down at the cub… my son, sleeping in my arms.  I was almost thirty, and though I wasn't the most maternal of women, occasionally the old biological clock reminded me that it was ticking.  I'd thought about kids, but I figured, no, I'm too independent, I live too dangerous of a life.  But here it was.  I hadn't had any choice in   
the matter, and if I had, I certainly wouldn't have chosen Victor Creed as the father.  I really hoped that Victor's insanity didn't run in the family.  Be that as it was, though, here was my son, sleeping in my arms, soft orange and black fur paler than my own, belly moving in and out with every breath.

A little warm glow started in my chest and radiated out to every part of my body.  I gulped back tears, grinning like an idiot.  An unpleasant thought occurred to me, and I looked anxiously at Logan.  "Logan?  Are you okay with this?  I know you hate Creed-"

"It ain't the cub's fault who his father is.  An' besides…"  He looked at me with that softness in his eyes that very few people ever saw.  "He's your son, Vy."

"Well, sad as I am to disturb this scene of domestic bliss, I do have a short list of requirements for the care and feeding of the cub.  A colleague at the San Diego zoo has sent me her recommendations via email.  Jean has been kind enough to volunteer to pick up the necessary supplies."  As Hank began to rattle off the list, I slid one hand carefully from underneath the cub and reached out for Logan's.  As we sat there, holding hands, with the cub nestled in my lap, I felt quite absurdly happy.

***

It seemed that every single mutant in the mansion came to see the cub.  Students I'd never even seen before came to coo at the cub, which spent the entire morning asleep in my lap in the kitchen.  The cub apparently could sleep through an F-5 tornado without blinking an eye, but by around eleven I was completely frazzled from the constant bombardment.  Jean and Ororo   
finally shooed everyone out of the kitchen, declaring that the "new mommy" needed a break.

"The new mommy?" I asked incredulously.

"That's what you are," Ororo answered from the stove where she stood making tea.

"I guess that makes Logan the new daddy," Jean said mischievously.

Logan mumbled something.  I stared at him and tried to smother a laugh.  He glared at me challengingly.  "What?" he demanded gruffly.

"You're blushing."

"I gotta go work on the Harley," he mumbled, and left the kitchen so quickly he didn't even grab a beer from the fridge.

I looked at Jean.  Jean looked at Ororo.  We burst into laughter simultaneously.

Ororo brought the tea over to the table and set it down.  "I never thought I would see Logan brought to blushing by a tiny baby," she said in her musical accent.

"I'll tell ya a secret," I said, glancing around.  "He's really just a big softy."

Jean nodded.  "I knew that from the first moment I saw him."

Ororo chuckled.  "Children always know when Logan is around.  You should see him with two or three five-year-olds climbing him like a tree!"

I sipped my tea, suddenly thoughtful.  Jean sensed my shift of mood.  It's hard to keep anything from a telepath.  "What is it, Vy?"

"I was just thinking… what's going to happen to him, as he grows up?  Will he have the intelligence of a tiger or a human?  And what if he has the intelligence of a human but he's unable to change into human form?  What then?  Will he be trapped for the rest of his life in the body of an animal?"

Ororo reached out her hand and rested it on mine.  "He will be loved, regardless of what his capabilities are.  We are his family now."

"We're your family too, Vy," Jean said.

I raised an eyebrow at her.  "Really?  The impression I've been getting is that newcomers have to save the planet or something before they get accepted into the group."

"We knew that you needed your own space after everything that happened," Jean said.  "You've already been accepted into the group.  You're important to Logan, and that makes you important to us."

"But understand," Ororo said, her voice suddenly lower and stronger, "that Logan is my dear friend, and if you treat his affection lightly, you will answer to me."  Her eyes were glowing slightly.  I suddenly believed those rumors about her being worshiped as a goddess.

"Fair enough," I said.  "But in the meantime, I think the little pooper is getting hungry.  Would one of you get some formula heated up?"

I held my son in my arms and smiled a little, shaking my head.  My life is so strange.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the day was pretty well dominated by getting everything arranged for the cub. I guess I really hadn't realized how much _stuff_ kids require. Jean and Scott gave us a really adorable crib (steel-reinforced bars and a Winnie the Pooh theme… I have no idea where they found it.) It looked pretty weird in our room, with Logan's katana and cowboy hat hanging on the wall next to my posters: Minnehaha Falls (to remind me of home) and The Empire Strikes Back (yes, I have a Han Solo fetish).

Then again, the thought of it being _our_ room still took a bit of getting used to. Officially speaking, Logan and I had been living together for almost a year, but I really only remembered about the last month of it. Long story, involving lost memory and a razor-toothed mad scientist who still gives me nightmares. Oh, we're quite a pair, Logan and I. At least four times a week, one of us wakes the other up with nightmares. He hasn't really told me what his nightmares are about. Have I mentioned that both of us have problems with communicating? Yeah, we're a real pair, all right.

So, eventually, the stream of people coming by the room to drop off presents and coo over the cub stopped. Logan opened up the window and sat on the windowsill, lighting up a cigar. I hate the damned things. Our compromise: he can smoke as long as I don't have to breathe it. I gently placed the sleeping cub into his crib and then flopped onto the bed.

"Long day," Logan commented.

"No shit."

We sat for a while in comfortable silence. One wonderful thing about Logan: he doesn't feel the need to talk all the damned time. I think I'd pitch Rogue's lover, Remy, out the window if I had to listen to his endless chatter. She seems to like it, though.

"You know anything about raising a kid?" I asked. Not having had any younger siblings or cousins, I really didn't know the first thing about childcare.

"Nope."

"Damn."

"Don't worry. Jeannie and 'Roro 'll be all over it. An' the kids—Rogue, Paige, Jubilee—they'll be standin' in line to babysit."

I snorted at the fact that he still calls the younger members of the team kids. They're all probably around twenty, but he still acts like they're giggly teenagers. Then again, sometimes they are just like giggly teenagers.

I watched him leaning against the window frame, gazing out over the grounds. He was wearing tight faded blue jeans and a white tee-shirt that hugged his muscular chest and shoulders. I glanced over at the cub. Completely crashed out. Good.

I stretched languidly on the bed, arching my back, stretching my claws. Logan glanced over at the rustle of fur on sheets. I smiled at him, the tip of my tail twitching.

A sudden gleam appeared in his eyes and he tossed the cigar butt out the window.

"The Prof hates it when you do that," I said teasingly.

"I know," he said, and came over to the bed, and there wasn't really much talking after that.

***

A whimpering mewl woke me out of a deep sleep. I raised my head and looked at the clock. Three a.m. Bloody hell.

But it was pretty clear that the cub was hungry, and wasn't going to stop crying until he got fed. So I attempted to move the hairy, muscular arm that was draped over my midsection. It was like trying to move a steel girder.

"Shit." I tried to wiggle out from underneath his arm. Logan murmured in his sleep and pulled me closer to him.

I sighed. This was really adorable and all, but I had a cub to feed. And his squeaky yowls were growing louder.

"Logan." No response. I tried it again, louder. "Logan!"

He started to snore lightly. I considered punching him in the nose, but it would have been a little difficult, since I was lying curled up with my back to his chest.

"Fine." I wriggled around until I was facing him, which took some doing, since adamantium-coated bones are _heavy_. Once I was facing him, I took a deep breath and shouted, "Logan!"

His eyes flicked open and he rolled quickly over me and to his feet, crouching with his claws out, ready for attack.

I sighed. There are certain disadvantages to sharing a bed with the ultimate weapon. "Logan, it's okay, we're not under attack."

Logan's claws slid back into his knuckles with a quiet *snikt*. "Oh," he said, sounding almost disappointed. "Why's the cub crying?"

"He's hungry," I said, getting out of bed. "I've gotta go downstairs to heat some formula up."

He picked up the cub, whose cries quieted a little. I held out my arms for the cub and Logan shook his head. "I'm comin' with ya."

"Okay, but you might consider putting pants on."

"Why?" Logan's a nudist at heart. I can't really blame him (hey, I run around in nothing but orange and black fur), but sometimes he's a little hazy on what is and is not appropriate.

"Because we might run into someone, a student, for example." I held out my arms for the cub again. Logan handed him over and grabbed a pair of sweatpants.

Naturally, we didn't run into anyone on the way down to the kitchen. Logan insisted on holding the cub while I heated the formula. I tested the temperature on the inside of my elbow, as Ororo had taught me, and brought the bottle over to the table.

"I want ta feed him," Logan said.

I stared at him. "Are you sure?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I gotta get used ta this fatherhood thing."

I gave him the bottle and showed him how to hold the cub and bottle properly, then sat down at the kitchen table across from him.

He concentrated on the cub for a few minutes, then seemed to feel my puzzled stare boring into his brain from across the table. "What?" he said, somewhat defensively.

"Fatherhood?"

He frowned. "He's yer son. I'm yer mate. He ain't related ta me, no, but that doesn't matter. Kid needs a father and I'm here." He glared at me fiercely.

I stood up, walked around the table, leaned over and kissed him deeply. "You are the sweetest man in the world," I told him.

"Don't spread that around. I got a reputation ta keep up," he said, but he was smiling too.

***

After settling the full and sleepy cub back into his crib, we laid back down on the bed, Logan flat on his back and me curled against him with my head on his shoulder.

He ran his hand over my side absently, staring up at the ceiling. "What're ya gonna name him?"

"Name him?" I echoed stupidly. I hadn't even thought about it. I'd just thought of him as 'the cub'. "I guess we can't call him 'the cub' forever, can we?"

Logan grunted.

After a while, I said, "M'rgaraj."

"That's a hell of a mouthful."

"Means 'lord of the beasts'. We can call him Raj for short."

"Good name."

"So are you ready for this? This fatherhood thing?"

"Yeah, I think so. You?"

"Honestly? No."

He rubbed a hand over my back. "S'okay. We'll manage."

"You ever have kids before?"

A long pause. "Not that I know of."

"Not that you know of?"

"Can't remember anything more'n about twenty years ago."

I pulled myself up onto an elbow and leaned over him, pretending to carefully examine his features. "Well, hon, unless you were a really active twelve-year-old, I don't think you have much to worry about."

He winced. "I'm older than that."

"Fine, maybe you're a well-preserved forty," I said teasingly.

He rolled off the bed and went to stand in the window again, staring out into the dark. "Darlin', with the things that keep surfacin' from my memories, I could be a well-preserved hundred and forty."

"Hundred and…" I whispered, shocked.

"Yep. Seems my healin' factor does more than just put me back together again after a fight. I don't age, darlin'. Not so ya can tell, anyway." He turned to face me, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed and a challenging look on his face. "Ya gonna run away now?"

His question confused the hell out of me for a second, then I made the connection. Some other woman had run out on him because of this. I shook my head and crossed the room to him, aware that a lot hung on how I handled this. Logan's a proud man, and it was clear that this woman, whoever she had been, had hurt his pride badly.

I grabbed his shoulders and stared him in the eye. "Logan," I said, "I don't give a shit how old you are. For goddess' sake, honey, I'm covered in orange and black striped fur. I'm a freak, you're a freak. You know what? It doesn't make a goddamned bit of difference to the way we feel about each other."

He crushed me against his chest, kissing me until I thought I'd pass out from lack of oxygen. At last, he came up for air, and I started walking us backwards toward the bed. My knees bumped against the side of the bed and I fell back, pulling him willingly down with me.

"Besides," I said, between kisses, "Now at least I know your sex drive won't poop out on me in a few years, old fella."

He growled at me. "Old fella? I'll show you…"


	4. Chapter 4

It was a gorgeous fall day. The leaves were beginning to turn and the air had the delicious crispness of autumn.

Jubilee, Paige, and Kitty were taking care of Raj, so I took the chance to escape from the Mansion while I could, to get some quiet time to myself. I needed it, after two weeks of motherhood.

I found that my feet had taken me without conscious thought to the little stone cottage in the woods, my own private hideaway. The cottage was old—possibly even pre-Revolutionary War—and as far as I could tell, no one but me had taken care of it in decades. It felt like it was mine.

I appreciated everything the Professor gave us, but nothing at the Mansion felt like mine. This little stone cottage satisfied my need to have a place of my own.

I spent some time repairing the makeshift roof I'd constructed out of tree branches and long grass. It wasn't especially sturdy, but it kept some of the rain out. I'd have to figure out something more permanent before snow started falling.

I was perched on the roof beam, tying down a branch, when I felt someone's eyes on me. Sweeping my eyes over the small clearing around the cottage, I spotted him almost immediately. He was making no effort to conceal himself, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree with his arms crossed over his immense chest and a leer on his bearded face.

"Creed," I hissed, my tail lashing angrily.

"Ya don't look happy ta see me, tigercat," he called.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He'd found me here at the cottage once before, about two months ago, but as the weeks had gone by without any more signs of him, I'd started to almost believe that I'd hallucinated the whole thing.

"Missed ya too, babe." Victor Creed, or Sabretooth as most called him, blew me a kiss.

I leaped down from the roof of the cottage, landing lightly on all fours. There are some things about being a mix between tiger and human that are very cool, I have to admit. "I haven't missed you," I snarled.

He grinned, showing sharp canines. "Yeah, yeah, you just tell yerself that."

"Get to the point, Creed. What are you doing here?"

"Wanted to see how you and our boy are doing."

"He's not your boy."

"That's not what the DNA analysis says. Or ain't ya done one of them yet?"

"Fuck you, Creed. I don't care if half of his genes are from you. He's my son and you'd better not even think about touching him." I felt a low growl building in my chest.

"How do ya think ya got him? Me. I sent him to ya."

"You're lying!"

"Nah. I sent him to ya so Sinister wouldn't mess with his genes. Ain't ya figured it out yet, tigercat? He's our son. Conceived the natural way. No test tubes." Victor grinned smugly.

"I never would have—"

"Ya did. Doncha remember? O'Gara's Bar? You 'n me, in the alley? That little leather skirt 'a yours hiked up around yer waist?"

I felt dizzy, put my hand against the wall of the cottage to keep myself from falling. Memories were starting to come back to me, swirling in my brain, flickering sceens—

***

"Pretty lady like you shouldn't be drinking alone."

I glanced up. "What the hell are you doing here? Isn't this a little too close to Salem Center for you?"

Victor Creed lowered himself into the booth across from me. He shrugged. "I can take them X-dweebs if they decide to fuck with me."

"Did I say you could sit there?" I said, half amused, half pissed off.

"Nah." He leaned back, all muscle and arrogance.

"What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"Business. But it's all pleasure now." He leered at me.

I laughed. "Whatever."

"Missed ya, tigercat."

"Yeah, right. You've been pining away after me, I'm sure."

"I ain't lyin'. It's been borin' as hell without ya. Sinister's holed up in his lab all the time, an' when he ain't he's just bossin' us around, not even sending us on any missions. I'm about ta kill the rest of them. The bitch and the asshole just spend the whole time screwin', an' the rest of them ain't exactly interestin' ta talk to. Makes me miss Mystique an' Toad. Ya know I'm goin' stircrazy when I miss those two."

"How much longer do you have to stay there? Can't you just kill Sinister now and be done with it?"

"I wish. Nah, probly another six ta eight months before I can kill him. Magneto's got some big plan, wants ta use Sinister's research for somethin'. I'm just a grunt, I don't get told none of the big picture."

I nodded, sipping my drink. Victor drummed his claws on the scarred tabletop, looking at me in a way I knew well, his eyes hot and black as sin.

"Ya wanna get outta here, babe?"

Moments later, we're outside the bar, against a wall, my skirt hiked up and my legs around Victor's waist, and I'm biting his shoulder and moaning, and he's gasping and calling me his tigercat—

***

"Ya remember." Victor was standing close to me.

I shook my head, feeling woozy. "I can't—I—"

"C'mere." He put his arms around me, and I leaned against him, his massive chest like a wall. He shrugged out of his wolfskin coat, laying it out on the grass, and tugging me gently down to lie on it next to him, cradled in his arms.

I felt like the world had been tugged out from under my feet. Who was I, that I could cheat on my lover with his greatest enemy? How could I be lying here, in the arms of a murderer, a terrorist?

"How could I…" I whispered, almost crying.

"'Sokay," he murmured, rubbing my back.

"No, it's not okay! How can it be? I betrayed him!"

"Tigercat, shhh… ya don't remember yet, do ya? The plan? Remember? Magneto was sayin' how he needed your help, an' you said…"

"I said… I said he was full of shit, and he laughed…" Memory surged up again, drowning me…

***

"You're full of shit, Magneto."

To my surprise, the distinguished-looking, dapper gentleman, also known as the most dangerous mutant alive, only chuckled. "My dear, you are refreshingly direct. However, in this case you are mistaken. I am not, as you say, 'full of shit' when I tell you that we are on the same side in this war."

"I don't believe you."

"That is of course your prerogative. However, I would appreciate it if you would do me the favor of hearing me out."

"I don't seem to have much of a choice," I said, jerking my chin at his goons, the naked blue scaly chick, the short, greenish guy, and the enormous, fanged, clawed brute of a man I'd overheard the others refer to as Sabretooth.

"You always have a choice, my dear. Do not ever let anyone tell you that you do not have a choice. The only question is which set of consequences you can live with."

"Fair enough. I'll listen."

"You say that we are on two different sides. Nothing could be further from the truth. Do you want the right to live your life as you choose, without fearing that others will take away your rights, discriminate against you, or possibly even kill you simply because you were born a mutant?"

I couldn't argue with him on that one. "Of course."

He leaned forward, his eyes intense in his thin, tired face. "That is what I want. It is what Charles Xavier wants. The only difference between our two dreams for the future of mutantkind is that he believes that such a future can be achieved by peaceful means. He will not accept that these changes will not take place without direct confrontation. He is a fool, blinded by his dream."

"By direct confrontation you mean terrorist attacks," I argued.

"The only difference between a terrorist and a patriot is which side is writing the history books. If England had retained control of America during your war of independence, do you think that George Washington would be remembered as a patriot, or as a dangerous criminal?"

"The ends do not justify the means."

"That's a lovely sentiment. However, while Xavier and his children huddle in Westchester, determined to create peaceful change, visibly mutant children are being strangled at birth. Children whose mutations do not appear until puberty are locked up 'for their own good' by parents terrified by anti-mutant rhetoric. Our people are dying for no other crime than that of having been born different!" His voice fairly crackled with power. I felt the hair on my arms standing up from the magnetism radiating from him.

What he had said… made sense. I hated to admit it, but… he had a good point. "Okay," I said cautiously, "Why don't you tell me why you had me abducted."

Magneto smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

The blue sky arching above me looked the same. The birds twittering in the trees, the slight rustling of the wind, it all sounded the same as it had a few minutes ago. How could this be, when everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I was, had just changed so utterly?   
"Whatcha thinkin', tigercat?" 

The deep voice belonged to Victor Creed, who lounged next to me on the wolfskin coat that he had spread out across the grass before gently placing me on it. If I had been asked just that morning whether Victor Creed, Sabretooth, known murderer and terrorist, could be gentle, I would have laughed at the very idea. 

"I… I don't know who I am anymore…" 

Vic snorted. "That's easy. Yer Vy. Try a harder one." 

"Why would I…" 

"Ya saw yer way past the bullshit that Xavier's been feedin' yer lot. Peaceful cooperation ain't the answer. The only thing that's gonna get our point across is force." 

I shook my head violently. "I won't condone the death of innocent people." 

Vic shrugged. "I know. Ya told Magneto all that afore ya joined us. An' ya got a point. Killin' bystanders just makes people hate us. We want them ta fear us more'n they hate us." 

"I don't even fucking believe this." 

"What?" 

"That I'm having this conversation with you. That I'm working with Magneto! That we were…" I closed my eyes, unable to complete the sentence. 

I felt Vic roll so that his arms were braced on either side of my head, his massive body covering mine but not crushing me. I opened my eyes and met his unnaturally dark eyes. His long hair trailed to the ground on either side of my face, curtaining off the world. "Lovers," he rumbled, finishing my sentence. 

I watched him lower his face toward me slowly as my emotions waged a pitched battle within my mind. How can you do this??? part of me screamed. He's a murderer, a terrorist, and worse! He's your lover's greatest enemy! You should be ripping his throat out! 

Yet another part of my mind, not nearly so civilized, was responding to primitive urgings that spoke note in words but in signals, signals that said *male* and *strong* and *mate*. 

The two sides fought each other to a standstill, and so I was still frozen in indecision when Vic's mouth lowered to mine. The kiss was surprisingly slow and gentle, deepening slowly. I felt my body shiver and relax, my mouth open to let his tongue in. 

Then my rational mind made one final last-ditch appeal to my conscience, and I realized what I was doing. Furious at myself and at my traitorous body, I bit down as hard as I could on his tongue. 

The coppery taste of blood flooded my mouth. Vic gasped and then chuckled into my mouth, not the response I was expecting at all. 

He rolled so that I was on top of him and grinned up at me, blood coating his teeth. "It's that way, is it, tigercat?" he growled, then bit just where my neck met my shoulder. I felt his long incisors pierce the skin. 

I roared and the world clouded over in red. 

***  

I awoke feeling as if I were in a sauna. Heat was simply pouring from some surface that I lay against, and for some reason I seemed to be lying on something furry. 

I blinked dazedly, trying to figure out where I was. The last thing I remembered was… oh, no. Oh no no no. 

I cautiously turned my head and saw exactly what I had dreaded seeing. Victor Creed, naked, hairy, and sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted. 

My brain gibbered, *no, no no, not happening, did not just screw Victor Creed, this is not real, not real* as I tried to ease myself away without waking him up. Naturally, with his senses, it was a lost cause. He flicked open one eye and leered at me. "Goin' somewhere, tigercat?" 

"Yes, I fucking well am, Creed," I hissed, rolling away from him and getting to my feet. He made no move to stop me. When I turned around to look at him, he was still grinning, his head resting on his folded arms. 

"There a problem, babe?" 

"Listen, asshole, you stay away from me from now on. I do not want to see your ugly face around here ever again, you got that?" 

"Yeah. But yer lyin' to yerself." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Ya want ta see me again. Ya want me, even if ya tell yerself ya hate me an' ya hate yerself fer screwin' me." 

"What the fuck ever. Get the hell out of here." I stalked away, tail lashing angrily. 

"You'll be back," he called after me. 

"Never," I yelled. 

"I give ya seven days, ten at the outside. You'll be back." 

"Fuck you, Creed!" I shouted. I heard his laughter trailing away behind me as I sprinted toward the lake, toward the cold waters that could wash away the scent and the feel of him. 

***  

I stayed in the lake till my teeth chattered, scrubbing myself with sand until my skin was almost raw. I cleaned the scent of him off me, but nothing could clean away the feeling of what I had done. I had cheated on Logan. Not once, but several times before. My fragmentary memories were beginning to return, and I would have willingly have lost them all again rather than to remember the things they showed me. 

At last, exhausted and bedraggled, I dragged myself out of the lake and collapsed on the shore. It was nearly sunset. I needed to get back to the Mansion and retrieve Raj from the girls who had volunteered to watch him for the afternoon. 

Logan… my stomach twisted. How could I tell him? How could I not tell him? 

I had betrayed his trust, not only by screwing Creed, but also by working for Magneto. I had betrayed all of them by giving information to Magneto. 

On some levels I agreed with Magneto. It was true that Xavier's methods were too passive. It was true that sometimes more drastic measures were called for than those the X-Men were willing to use. But I had been accepted into their home, as one of them, and I had repaid their kindness with treachery. 

There was really only one option out of this mess, only one way to fix this. I just hoped I had the strength to do it right. 

***  

The kitchen was full of good smells and bustling bodies as I slipped in through the back door. Jubilee was apparently in charge of the main meal tonight, and was making her specialty: mac and cheese, in large enough quantities to sink a small battleship. 

"Vy!" she called as I entered. "Kitty put Raj down for a nap a little while ago. She's got the baby monitor in the living room." I nodded and smiled with effort. Fortunately, she was distracted by Bobby, and I could hear her sharp voice echo down the hall as I left. "Dude! You so totally are not going to put that in my Mac and Cheese!" 

I stopped by the living room and told Kitty that I was just going to go up and check on Raj. "Okay," she said, not looking up from her computer screen. 

I padded up the stairs slowly and quietly opened the door to the bedroom. Raj was sound asleep, sprawled on his side, his round little belly rising and falling with each breath. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I crossed over to the dresser and grabbed my purse and a backpack. 

A few minutes later, I was ready. I leaned over Raj and watched him breathe. He'd only been my son for a few short weeks, but it still felt like I was tearing a part of my soul out. I leaned over and rested my forehead gently on his stomach, breathing in his sweet smell of milk and fur and baby shampoo. I kissed his little ear and whispered, "Mommy loves you very much." His ear twitched, but he didn't wake. 

I slung the backpack over my shoulder and wiped away my tears. Time to go. 

***  

"I've got to run a few errands. Would you mind taking care of Raj for a while longer?" I asked Kitty. 

Typing steadily, she shrugged and said, "Not a problem." 

"Thanks," I said, and headed out to the garage. 

I took a rather ordinary-looking sedan from the Mansion's garages. The keys hung on hooks in a little cabinet that I, as a member of the X-Men, had a key to. I swallowed the irony and kept moving. Logan and the team were out on a mission and not expected back until late. I'd need all the head start I could get. 

***  

I ditched the sedan in the first town that had a major train depot and a Greyhound stop. I purchased a train ticket, conspicuously covered head to foot in a hooded sweatshirt and long wool coat. Then I made a quick stop at the women's restroom and made use of the items I'd purchased at a department store along the way. 

About fifteen minutes later, a rather normal-looking woman with short spiky black hair almost hidden under a baseball cap, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt and wearing a leather jacket and gloves, exited the bathroom, carrying a full shopping bag. 

Ah, the wonders of Nair and brush-on hair coloring. 

I wished I hadn't had to wear the ball cap, because it was a little memorable, but nothing else would hide the points of my ears. My face and neck stung from the application of Nair, but once again, nothing else would hide the fact that I was furry and tiger-striped. The gloves… well, at this point nothing else could really hide the fact that my fingers ended in claws rather than fingernails. 

I walked slowly across town to the Greyhound station, despite my nerves telling me to go, go, go! and bought a ticket to L.A. I had no intention of going that far, naturally. I'd just fail to return to the bus at one of the innumerable small town stops along the way. 

***  

It was only later, as the bus hummed on through the night, that I allowed myself to slump against the window and think about the note I'd left Logan. 

Tears streaked tracks down my face. I saw my shadowy reflection in the window and thought, that's me. That's all that I am, a shadow of a real person. It's better this way. 

*** 

I'm leaving, Logan. Don't try to find me. I have betrayed you. Please understand that leaving is the only honorable route left to me. 

Take care of Raj. 

It's better this way. 

***  


	6. Chapter 6

The bus hummed on through the night.  

I slumped against the window, trying not to think, but long road trips really aren't good for much more than thinking. I decided to take the Greyhound as far as central Wisconsin. It was tempting to go back to Minneapolis, back to my old friends, but I couldn't risk dragging them into this mess. How did my life get so fucking complicated?  

Once upon a time, all I wanted was to be an actress, make a lot of money, and never be poor again. That was when I was growing up, youngest of six kids of immigrant parents, packed together into a two-bedroom apartment on St. Paul's west side. Then I got a little older, and started turning into a tiger-woman every so often. My grandmother told me it was because one of our ancestors slept with a tiger demon. So I accepted that becoming an actress was probably out, and started getting interested in the culture and legends of my parents' native India. I got a scholarship and went to college in Chicago. I had my whole life ahead of me, and it looked brilliant. Then my parents, my grandmother, and three of my sisters died in an apartment fire, and everything collapsed inside me. I'd always had problems with depression, ever since I could remember, but I could function okay no matter how badly I felt. I was the hope of my grandmother and my mother, after all. I was the one who was going to get a college education, become a professor. I had to be strong. Then everyone I cared about died one night for no reason. It was just a stupid space heater that had a short. And they all died. 

After that, I dropped out of college. I didn't want to do anything but sleep. I got a room (more of a glorified closet) in a house with a bunch of students, and I got a stupid job stocking shelves at a grocery store, and I started drinking. I was the life of the party, let me tell you. The college kids I was hanging with didn't think anything of drinking several nights a week, and I wasn't ever an angry drunk or a sloppy drunk. No, I was a horny drunk. I got a reputation for partying hard and sleeping around, and I was always welcome at parties. 

All the while my soul was dying. 

The turning point came with a failed suicide attempt. You know the old adage: a suicide attempt is a cry for help. Well, that's true to a certain extent. Generally, people who don't truly want to die will subconsciously arrange things so that it won't work. Take the bottle of pills somewhere where someone will find them before it's too late, yadda yadda. I've heard a lot of stories. But here's the other side of that coin: people who truly want to kill themselves just do it. No elaborate plan, no cry for help. And when they accidentally survive the attempt—well, it's not pretty. Take your average handgun suicide. Judge the angle wrong, and it's goodbye jaw, hello reconstructive surgery. 

I got lucky. I'm a mutant. 

So I woke up unexpectedly not dead, lying in a bathtub full of cold bloody water with no marks upon my wrists and a pissed-off roommate banging on the bathroom door. That was a real wake-up call. I'd intended to die, I'd slit the veins from wrist to elbow, and if not for a healing factor I'd never realized I had, I'd have been dead. It got me thinking that maybe I needed help. 

I moved back to Minneapolis and got myself some therapy and some medication. My therapist suggested that I needed a sense of purpose in order to feel fulfilled. Turns out that I function poorly in an environment without clearly defined rules. So I took that to mean that I needed to belong to something. I talked to some people and found a group of mutants who were working together to fight injustice, sort of like the X-Men on a smaller level. I joined them, and while it wasn't like my family, it was a family. I belonged again. And for eight years, that was enough. That was more than enough. 

Then we went to actually visit the X-Men in Westchester. We were all really psyched. I mean, these people were our heroes. And I met a short, hairy, obnoxious guy named Wolverine. And he pissed me off immediately. And we had glorious wild sex in the forest. And then we left, and I thought that would be the end of it. 

That should have been the end of it, I told my ghostly reflection in the window. A nice business trip fling, no strings, no expectations, no emotions. No sense of guilt and betrayal churning in my stomach. 

***  

I got off the Greyhound at a little town in Wisconsin. I remembered it from driving the route from Minneapolis to Chicago, so many years ago. I found a payphone and dug a phone number out of my backpack. 

"Good morning, School for Gifted Children," Jean's voice answered. 

"May I speak to Charles?" 

There was a pause. "Vy, is that you?" 

Goddess, I didn't want to have this conversation. "Yes. Listen, Jean, I'm sorry I had to leave like this. Please take care of Raj… and… and…" I trailed off. 

"And Logan?" she asked, her voice deceptively gentle. 

"Yeah. How is…" 

"Not good." Her tone said, what did you expect? 

"I'm sorry… can I please talk to the Professor?" 

"One moment," she said, her voice coolly professional. 

A pause, and then the Professor's rich, resonant voice. "Vy? Are you all right?" 

"Yeah. I wanted to tell you… I'm sorry." 

"Why did you leave?" 

"I couldn't… I couldn't stay…" Now for the really difficult part. "I was feeding information to Magneto." 

He didn't say anything. I forged ahead, "Nothing harmful to the X-Men. Just information on locations and stuff… I just wanted to let you know."  

I hung up the phone. I couldn't bear to hear his disappointment and anger. 

***  

I didn't want to be anywhere near people anymore. 

So I headed north, into the moderately vast people-less expanses of central Wisconsin. I didn't really know where I was headed, but I kept moving north, avoiding human habitation. My fur grew back in from where I'd Naired it off to pass as human. I stopped wearing clothing, since there really was no need of it with my plush all-over fur coat. I stashed my backpack full of clothes in a little cave, figuring I'd eventually find it if I ever decided to join the human race again. I hunted small game and ate it raw. Kind of like sushi, but messier. 

I started to feel the rhythms of the forest in a way I never had before. Sure, I'd backpacked and all that in my "human" days, but I'd never been this close to nature before. Hell, I wasn't just close to nature, I was part of nature. I slept all day securely hidden in a sturdy tree, then I'd hunt at dusk, eat my prey raw, travel northwards in darkness, find another tree around dawn, and start the cycle all over again. I was a walking Nature Channel special. 

Time stops having meaning when you live by the rhythms of the sun and the moon. I stopped thinking about things in abstract terms. My fucked-up relationship with Logan, my betrayal of the X-Men, all these things retreated to the back of my mind. Trees, streams, prey, those things were real. 

***  

One dusk I woke from my sleep, climbed down out of the tree, and found that a large gray wolf was waiting for me. Being a cat, I immediately climbed back up the damned tree.  

The last thing I expected to hear was human laughter. I peered suspiciously down from my perch and saw that the wolf was gone. In her place sat a gray-haired girl, laughing her ass off. 

I jumped back down. "What the hell are you laughing at?" 

"You! You should have seen your face…" and she started laughing again.   
I started to stalk away, offended. 

"Wait! I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself." 

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded. 

"I'm your spirit guide." 

I stared at her incredulously. She looked about nineteen and was sitting stark naked in the middle of the wilderness, laughing at a werecat. She was either an escaped loony, or serious. "Prove it." 

She smiled. Her form wavered and shifted, and suddenly solidified again, in the form of the gray wolf. The wolf grinned. **This proof enough?** her voice asked in my head. 

"All that proves is that you're a mutant." I refused to be intimidated by the telepathy. After all, I'd been living with one of the most powerful minds on the planet, even if he is too ethical to ever read minds without permission. 

**Your tiger side is happier now that you're out in the wilderness.** 

"Easily guessed." 

**She misses your cub.** 

A sudden burst of pain hit me. I remembered Raj's warm, furry body, his unfocused blue eyes, his squeaky roars. "You could have picked that up from my mind using your telepathy. This still doesn't prove that you're my… spirit guide?" 

The wolf sighed. **You're a suspicious one.** 

"Yeah, well, you're a loony. A mutant loony." 

The wolf narrowed her gray eyes at me. **Very well, if you demand stronger proof, you shall have it. This might hurt a bit.** 

And suddenly the world turned red and roaring filled my ears…  


	7. Chapter 7

Roaring filled my ears. I mean literally. Suddenly all around me was the sound of a tiger growling, harsh, dark, and ominous. 

It was the strangest sensation. I was _in_ my body, but I wasn't in control of my body. And I wasn't alone. There was someone in there with me, someone wild and female and angry. 

"This isn't funny," I tried to say, but I didn't have control over my vocal cords anymore. **Hey!** I tried to yell mentally. **Wolf chick! This isn't funny! Undo whatever you just did or I'll rip your throat out!** 

There was the sound… the mental sound, which is pretty hard to describe… of a light chuckle. **I think you'd find that rather difficult at the moment. Why don't you say hello to your tiger side? She's the one in control of your body at the moment, so I think you might find it advantageous to make friends.** 

**What the hell do you mean my tiger side is in control of my body? There's only one me in this body, and it's me!** 

**Wrong. She's there. You just haven't been able to talk to her before. ** 

I tried to blink, somewhat dumbfounded. **So if this is true, how do I talk to her? And why would I want to talk to her? ** 

I heard an exasperated mental sigh. **Your spirit is out of balance. Are you unhappy? Do you find yourself doing things for no reason that you can understand? Did you not just abandon your mate and your cub, travel a few thousand miles, and spend several days wandering aimlessly in the wilderness?** 

**Umm…** I replied quite intelligently. 

**So talk to her. Do I have to explain everything? Jeez, this spirit guide thing is seriously overrated.** The wolf sprawled on her side, watching me through bright gray eyes and grinning toothily. 

**Okay… erm, excuse me, tiger side?** 

**Yes?** This new voice was dark, and harsh, and growling, but in a way I can't quite explain, it sounded like me—maybe like me before coffee at five a.m.. 

**Uhh… are you really the tiger side to my spirit?** 

**Yes.** 

**How long have you been there?** 

**Since the beginning.** 

She was clearly not the talkative sort. **The beginning of what?** 

**Your change. When you became.** 

**Umm… all right. So what do you want?** 

**Cub.** All of a sudden, the scent signature of Raj wafted through my mind, along with an overwhelming yearning. 

**Gotcha. Anything else?** 

**Mate.** The scent signature this time was muddied, sort of a combination of Logan and Vic. I winced. Even my animal nature was confused about the situation. 

**Bingo!** the wolf whispered smugly. 

**Is that the problem?** I demanded of the wolf. **Even my tiger side can't figure out which one is my mate?** 

**Why don't you ask her. Sheesh. Do I have to hold your hand through this whole thing?** 

I would have glared at her, if I had control of my body. **Is there anything else you want?** 

**Home.** The thought filled my mind with a mixture of scents, from my mother's lamb stew, to the scents of my old teammates, to the scents of the X-Men (even Jean.) 

**Yeah, I get it. Trust me, we're going back to Westchester. I think I've had enough walkabout, thank you very much.** The thought of facing the Professor after confessing to feeding information to Magneto made me rather queasy, but I had to admit that I would have faced much worse than that to see Raj again. And Logan. And, a certain traitorous portion of my mind whispered, Vic. 

**Mate.** my tiger side replied, sending the mixed scents of Logan and Vic to me once more. 

Dammit! **It's gotta be one or the other, tigercat.** I winced at my accidental usage of Vic's pet name for me. **One or the other. Choose.** 

She responded with both their scents again. 

**What the hell is this, you want me to choose? Okay, fine. It's easy. I choose Logan.** Vic, whispered part of my mind. 

Stubbornly, she responded with both their scents. 

**That's impossible. Can't be done. They hate each other. I can't have both of them.** Angrily, I shouted at the wolf, **She's crazy! I can't have both of them. I have to choose one and I'm damned well choosing the one who isn't a psycho sonofabitch! I choose Logan!** 

**Your tiger side doesn't agree. And, if you'd be honest with yourself, neither do you.** The wolf yawned at me. 

**Who the hell gave you the right to come in here and play games with my head?** 

**I'm your spirit guide, dummy. Look it up when you get back to the Mansion.** The wolf stood up and lifted her muzzle into the wind, sniffing. **I think it's time for you and your tiger self to get a little better acquainted. Catch me if you can!** 

And with that, the wolf took off at a run into the woods. **Hunt,** said my tiger side happily, and then suddenly I felt my body _shift_ and instead of two legs I had four, and my senses increased so tremendously that breathing the air was as heady as drinking fine wine. I was drunk on the sheer complexity of scents.

I felt my muscles bunching and releasing, the flex of my claws into the forest floor, the sheer exhilaration of the hunt. The wolf was ever before us, just out of reach.

We flew through the dark forest, startling deer, but not giving chase because we could hear the wolf's laughter, and I didn't know when it stopped being _me_ and _her_ and started being _us_. We flowed together, the tiger and the woman, until I couldn't say where she began and I ended.

We ran until moonrise, when the gray wolf led us to a circle of stones in the depths of the forest. It looked bizarrely like ancient Celtic standing stones, and the human side of me tried to think of what Native American tribe would have created a site like this, and the tiger side of me said, **Pay attention!**

The wolf stepped slowly, almost ceremoniously, to the center of the circle and turned three full circles. **Great mother, I bring to you a daughter. Guide her and nurture her until the day her soul rejoins the circle. Step forward, child.**

My tiger side, still in control of my body, strode forward to meet the wolf nose-to-nose at the center of the circle.

The wolf touched her nose to mine and then spoke again. **Great mother, sisters all, we greet this child and name her Vyaghri.**

And I swear, though all my senses told me we were alone in the clearing, I heard a great upwelling of voices murmuring, "Vyaghri."

The wolf grinned. **Welcome, Vyaghri.** Then she turned and left the circle.

**What now?** I asked.

**We go catch a few rabbits.**

**What are the rabbits for?**

She gave me a look. **For eating, Vy. Come on, let's get moving.**

**What, is that it?** I walked over to her.

**What else should there be?** She sniffed the wind contemplatively.

**Well, I guess… What was that ceremony about, anyway?**

She trotted off into the woods. I easily caught up with her, suddenly realized that I was walking on four feet, and promptly tripped and fell over my own feet. Chuckling, the wolf told me, **Graceful, Vy. The rabbits will never hear you coming.**

I gathered my four feet under me and rose unsteadily. **Hey, give me a break already. This is the first time I've ever been in control of my body when in tiger form. Speaking of… where is my tiger side? Is she gone?**

**Nope. You're just better integrated now.** The wolf loped off into the woods.

**What the--** I tried to catch up with her. **What the hell do you mean, we're better integrated? I'm not a piece of softwear!**

**Your two halves. Tiger and woman. Better integrated. Are you always this slow?**

**Is that what the ceremony was for?**

**Nope. That was an introduction.**

**To who?**

**The mother.**

**The mother of what?**

**Yes.**

**You're really fucking irritating, you know that?**

She laughed.

***

Later, after we'd hunted down a few rabbits and eaten our fill, and were lounging on the grass in two-legged form again, I asked her, "So who are you? How did you know who I am? How did you find me?"

She smiled mysteriously. "Oh, let's just say that an old friend told me about you."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "An old friend named Professor Xavier?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"You are really annoying."

"I've been told that before." She grinned, and then turned serious. "You're going to find it a little difficult at first to deal with the changes within your spirit. The advice I'll give you now is to listen to your tiger side. She won't be able to talk to you in words anymore, that was something I facilitated. So you're going to have to trust your gut instinct, because that's your animal side talking to you. She's got important things to say, so listen to her. You got that?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Don't forget it." She stood up, stretched, and shifted into wolf form again. **Take care of yourself.**

"Thanks. Hey, you never did answer my question. Who are you?"

Her only reply, **A friend.** I heard her fading mental laughter, and then I was alone again.

"Right. Trust my gut instinct. Gotcha." I shook my head doubtfully, then started the long walk back towards civilization.


	8. Chapter 8

It just figured that the first person I would encounter upon my return to the Mansion was Scott.

I'd spent the journey back to Westchester rehearsing conversations in my mind, trying to figure out how to explain my actions to the Professor, to Jean, and most difficult of all, to Logan… the imaginary conversations with Logan never worked terribly well, and tended to end up with him telling me to go to hell. I was prepared for that, or at least I tried to convince myself that I was. But never in my most paranoid imaginings had I considered the possibility of running into the only person in the Mansion who'd be prepared to shoot me on sight.

One thing about Scott—he's dedicated.

His hand went up to the side of his visor as soon as he opened the front door and saw me waiting on the doorstep. Well aware that this man had the power to blast me into little itty bits that they'd be picking out of the Mansion lawn for months, I smiled weakly and said, "Hi, Scott."

His hand hovering at the side of his visor, he said grimly, "What exactly do you think you're doing here?"

"Ummm, I need to—"

"What? Spy on us for Magneto a little more?" Scott sounded angrier than I'd ever heard him before. This wasn't going well.

I caught a glimpse of bright red hair behind Scott's tall figure and squeaked out, "Jean! Could you please convince your husband not to shoot me?"

Resting a slim hand on Scott's shoulder, she gazed at me coldly and said, "Scott, honey, she's not worth it."

His hand slowly lowered to his side. I swallowed the insult without comment, asking instead, "Can I please see the Professor?"

Jean's eyes went briefly out of focus, indicating telepathic communication. After a few moments, she shook her head briefly, gave me a dirty look, and gestured for me to follow her into the Mansion.

Jean led the way to the Professor's office, not saying a word to me. I glanced about the dark paneled walls of the main hallway, catching the scents of those who had passed through it recently. The students, the X-Men, Raj, but no Logan. That was strange. I started to worry that he'd gone off on one of his infamous cross-country wanders. But no, he wouldn't leave Raj behind. Guilt speared through me at the recollection that I'd done just that not two weeks ago.

Jean opened the door to the office, gesturing for me to enter. I took a seat in front of his massive desk, hearing the two of them stand slightly behind and to either side of me, as if afraid that I'd attack the Professor. I scowled in annoyance. I could understand them not trusting me as much anymore, but this was getting ridiculous!

The Professor looked at me solemnly, not speaking. I shifted nervously, wondering how to start the conversation, since he didn't seem to be about to start it for me. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for some serious groveling.

"Sir, I am so sorry for what I've done. I realize that there's nothing I can do to make up for the fact that I leaked information to Magneto. But please believe me when I say that I did not ever give information to him that might harm the X-Men." I heard Scott make a derisive sound, but I ignored him, my whole concentration on the Professor's grave face.

He leaned forward, steepling his hands before him on his desk, his eyes piercing. "Will you allow me to probe your mind in order to determine the truth of the matter?"

"Yes, I will," I answered immediately. I'd expected him to demand it.

Jean protested, "Professor! If she's working for Magneto there could be psychic traps within her mind! This is much too dangerous."

"I believe the risk is justified," the professor answered, his tone leaving no room for further protest.

I could practically feel Scott and Jean simmering with anger behind me. I tried to ignore them, looking into the Professor's eyes and willing myself to relax. We'd done this before, in a fruitless quest to find the year's worth of memories I'd somehow lost.

"Breathe in… breathe out…" His rich, deep voice lulled me into a near-hypnotic state. I felt his mind touch mine, so powerful, a sense of great strength and unwavering purpose.

Scenes whirled through my mind dizzyingly, as the Professor riffled through the pages of my mind as easily as he might a book. I winced as he examined my conversations with Victor Creed. He backtracked from the memory of my last encounter with Vic, finding the few scenes I'd managed to remember of my encounters with Magneto. Something tinged the contact between us then… sadness, bittersweet yearning. I blinked back tears, feeling the hollow yearning in my heart for Raj, for Logan.

The Professor broke the connection and leaned back, looking troubled. "You are telling the truth, Vy, and I can see that you have been manipulated and used as a pawn by Magneto. I believe you mean no harm to the X-Men. In fact, your unique connection to Victor Creed may prove extremely useful to us."

Scott immediately blustered, calling me unreliable, untrustworthy, etc., etc., but I barely heard him, snippets of conversation with Vic suddenly coming back to me. ** "Sinister's holed up in his lab all the time… another six ta eight months before I can kill him… Magneto's got some big plan, wants ta use Sinister's research for somethin'…" **

"How? How could her… connection… to Sabretooth be useful to us?" Scott demanded.

"I believe that Vy may be able to get some very interesting information for us regarding exactly what Magneto has been planning," the Professor replied.

I met the Professor's implacable gaze, suddenly realizing exactly how ruthless this gentle-seeming man could be in pursuit of his Dream.

***

In the end, the Professor over-ruled all Scott's suggestions for what to do with me, including imprisonment, house arrest, and 24-hour surveillance. I was allowed the run of the Mansion and its grounds, though naturally my security clearance would not be reinstated. I tried not to care about the naked hostility on Jean and Scott's faces. They were justified in not trusting me anymore. I had betrayed them. But I wasn't sure how long I'd be sticking around if I encountered this level of hostility from all the members of the X-Men. Logan… who knew what Logan's reaction to me would be. I swallowed down the queasiness of that thought and went to find Raj. Spend a little time with my son first. Then I could deal with whatever Logan threw at me.

***

Raj's scent-trail led me to the kitchen, and then out the back door. I could hear the chatter of young girls, saw Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee sitting in a circle on the Mansion lawn with a bright orange-and-black tiger cub, and then I was running across the lawn, tears in my eyes, crying, "Raj!"

Raj saw me and started galloping toward me, still quite clumsy on his oversized paws. I dropped to my knees and he nearly knocked me over, licking my face with his raspy tongue. I picked him up and hugged him to my chest. He was heavier than he had been two weeks ago when I'd left. Raj wiggled in my grasp, trying to lick my hands, my face, anything he could reach. I was laughing and crying at the same time.

After a few minutes, my son wriggled out of my arms and grabbed something that looked like a knotted-up sweatsock. He trotted back to me and looked up at me expectantly. "It's his newest toy. He wants you to tug on it," Kitty explained.

Raj occupied with trying to get the sock from me, I looked at the three girls. Kitty smiled at me with her usual kindness. Jubilee was grinning at me and popping her gum. Rogue, on the other hand, was frowning and picking at her gloves.

"Dude, I am so happy that you're back. Logan's been a complete asshole ever since you went AWOL," Jubilee said, popping her gum for emphasis.

Logan. I sighed, longing and guilt twisting together in my gut. "I'm sorry I left like that. Thank you for taking care of Raj."

Kitty smiled. "We don't mind taking care of Raj. Besides, Logan's been taking care of him most of the time. We just watch the little guy when he's training or out on a mission."

"Or in the Danger Room, shredding robots into teeny little pieces," Jubilee added.

"Still, I owe you guys a lot for filling in. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Kitty said.

"Yeah, no prob, Vy. We like watching the little Tigger. Aren't you just a little Tigger?" Jubilee cooed, tickling Raj's tummy. Raj dropped the sock and the two of them started to wrestle, both of them growling.

Rogue didn't say anything, just pushing herself up from the grass almost violently and stalking away.

"I'll be back in a second," I told the other two, then jogged after Rogue. "Rogue!"

She kept walking till she was out of earshot of the girls, then stopped, arms crossed. I caught up to her and circled around to face her. She didn't seem inclined to start the conversation, so I jumped right in. "You're angry at me."

"Yeah, Ah am." She was pissed. The Mississippi accent was back, stronger than ever.

"Listen, I'm sorry about leaving without telling anyone. It was immature and irresponsible of me."

She just stared at me, chocolate brown eyes narrowed angrily.

"I know what I did hurt you all. I'm sorry."

"Sorry ain't good enough."

"I don't know what else to say, Rogue."

"Ah ain't the one you need to apologize to."

I nodded. "Logan."

She looked me up and down, her lip curling. "And, sugah, Logan may forgive you, but Ah nevah will." She stalked away, and this time I didn't try to follow her.

I sighed and rubbed between my eyes, where I could feel a vicious headache growing. "Fuck. Okay. Time to go find Logan."


	9. Chapter 9

Finding Logan wasn't difficult. I checked his room, the lounge, and the Danger Room. Third time's the charm. I wasn't about to interrupt him while he was working out-good way to get myself skewered-so I went up to the control room to watch him.

He's gorgeous in motion. Deadly, relentless, purely predatory. Death personified, in one compact, muscular body tipped with adamantium claws.

I'm not quite sure what it is that makes me find his violent nature so attractive, whether it's my own twisted psyche or some aspect of my animalistic mutation. All I can say is that my breath grew short as I watched him shred robot drones, my tail lashing and my claws flexing in and out in excitement. I almost purred as he took down his last attacker, sending it flying in three unevenly sliced sections across the room. He stood there silently for a moment, then dropped into a cross-legged posture, his absolute stillness in stark contrast to the furious motion of just a few moments before.

Best to get this over with. I headed down the stairs slowly and hit the door release button.

His head came up as he heard the sound of the door mechanism, hazel eyes piercing. I stepped through the doorway hesitantly.

"Hello, Logan."

"Vy." His voice was so cold, so controlled. My mind flashed back to the memory of him crying out my name at the point of orgasm. His nostrils flared and I knew he could smell the lingering scent of my arousal.

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head, a cynical half-smile twisting his mouth. "So am I."

"Can we… can we try again? Can we…"

"What, Vy? Can we what? Forget about you fucking Sabretooth? Again?"

So still, so cold, so controlled… I'd never come up against this side of him before. If he'd yelled, stomped around, put his claws through a wall, I would have known how to deal with it, but this… It was like a wall between us, and I didn't know how to break through it. "I'm so sorry. I… hell, Logan, I don't know what else to say. If I could go back in time, if I could change what happened, I would, but I can't. All I can do is tell you I'm sorry."

"Fine." He stood, turned a little away from me, his arms crossed.

I rubbed my hand over my eyes wearily. Tears sparkled on the fur on the edge of my hand when I brought it away from my face. "So it's over."

"Looks like." His face was closed, no emotion showing.

"Fine. I'll…" My voice faltered and I cleared my throat. "I'll move my stuff out of your room tonight."

"Already done."

I felt like someone had put his hand into my gut and twisted. I turned away, heading for the door, just wanting out of this room, away from his cold anger. "I guess that's that, then."

"Vy." I turned back toward him, the little hope that fluttered in my chest dying a quick death at the sight of his emotionless face. "We need to work out a schedule for Raj."

"What do you mean?"

"He may not be my son by blood but that don't mean I'll abandon him." I could practically hear the unspoken accusation hanging in the air: 'the way you did.' "I figure every other day we trade off."

"Okay. That sounds fine." I had to get out of there. "We can trade off at breakfast."

"Fine." He turned away, started pitching eviscerated robot parts into a garbage bin. I stared at his back for a moment, wishing there was something, anything I could say to fix it. But there wasn't.

***

After a decidedly uncomfortable evening meal, during which the X-Men ostracized me and the students stared at me, I escaped downstairs with Raj to the company of the one person in the Mansion who hopefully would still talk to me: Hank.

"Vy, my dear!" His fangs flashed against the blue of his fur as he enveloped me in an enormous hug. Raj wiggled in my grip and licked Hank's face. "And my favorite young neo-feline mutant! What a pleasure it is to see you!"

Raj continued to lick Hank's face enthusiastically as I sagged in Hank's arms, aware, suddenly, of how emotionally exhausted I was. "Hank, I am so glad to see you, you have no idea."

"What's the matter?" He led me over to a comfortable couch, which I knew he slept on more often than his own bed. Raj promptly crawled out of my lap and curled up on the couch between the two of us, his head on Hank's leg.

I rubbed Raj's tummy gently, not able to meet Hank's kind blue eyes. "I'm sure you've heard the whole sordid story."

His huge hand, tipped with lethally sharp claws, gently urged my chin up to meet his understanding gaze. "Vy, my dear, you are my friend. As Robert will tell you, I am chary indeed in my choosing of friends, and yet, once you are my friend, I will support you to the ends of the earth and beyond. I know that, whatever mistakes you may have made, you did not commit them out of malicious intent to do harm. All of us make mistakes. The true test of character is to learn from them."

Tears flooded my eyes and I burrowed against him, feeling his hand rub soothing circles on my back. His solid bulk surrounded me reassuringly as I muttered something incoherently against his fur and cried.

***

I ended up sleeping the night on Hank's couch. I'm not sure if he napped in a chair or if he simply spent the night working. I would have felt guilty about taking his couch, except that I think he'd have done the same without me there. Hank's been known to work for seventy-two hours straight without noticing that he's tired, until his body finally rebels. Bobby's told me stories about finding Hank sleeping on the lab floor, completely comatose with a printout clutched to his chest like a security blanket.

Raj had apparently spent the night sleeping partly on top of my chest. He licked my face sloppily and then yawned, sharp teeth and curled pink tongue and a blast of morning breath in my face.

"Good morning, sleeping damsel!" Hank executed a backflip off his lab stool and bounded over to me. I blinked groggily at him and demanded to know what time it was. "Breakfast time, if my nose does not deceive me, fair maiden."

Hank's exuberance is a bit much to deal with first thing in the morning. I stretched and yawned. Raj hopped off the couch and made a beeline for the large enclosed kitty litter pan in a back corner of the lab.

I stared after him, unaware of how much emotion showed in my face. Hank settled on the couch next to me and patted my knee reassuringly. "I've been in communication with my colleague at the San Diego zoo. Raj exhibits higher intelligence than normal tiger cubs of his age."

"But does he have normal human intelligence? Oh, hell, Hank, I don't even know if I should hope for him to have human intelligence or not. What would life be like for him, with the mind of a human in the body of an animal?"

Hank knew as well as I the problems of being an animalistic mutant in the normal world. His bright blue fur was the result of an experiment gone wrong, while my own orange and black striped fur was the result of Sinister's accentuation of my natural mutant gift, but we shared a kinship: both too obviously mutant to ever pass in normal society. At least we were essentially human-shaped, unlike Raj.

He hesitated, frowned, and then said cautiously, "I have been somewhat loath to bring this possibility to your attention; I do not wish to engender false hopes regarding Raj's future. However, in the course of my investigation into his mutation, I have uncovered the possibility that he may have inherited your shape-shifting ability."

"You mean… he might be able to shift into human form? Hank, that's wonderful!"

"There is no way to be one hundred percent certain. However, if his mutation follows the normal pattern, this ability should manifest itself around puberty."

Raj bounded back to us and pounced on Hank's furry foot, growling.

"Puberty… human puberty or tiger puberty?"

"So far his physical development has been that of a normal tiger. I would theorize that his mutation will follow the same path. In other words… about two years."

I stared at Raj, currently curled around Hank's foot and gnawing at it with sharp teeth. "Oh… fuck. Hank, you're talking about Raj being able to shift into human form, pubescent human form, teen-aged boy human form, in about two years."

Hank nodded, looking a bit puzzled at the terror in my voice.

"Hank, I'm barely ready to be the mother of a tiger cub. I'm not ready to be the mother of a teen-aged boy! Much less a teen-aged boy who can turn into a full-grown tiger!"

He nodded soberly. "Raj appears to be of the Bengal subspecies. At full growth, he'll be nine and a half feet from head to tail and weigh almost five hundred pounds."

"Hank, you're not helping."

Raj gave up chewing on Hank's foot and bounced over to me, landing heavily in my lap and kneading my stomach with his paws, a clear sign that he was ready for his morning milk. I gathered him into my arms and nuzzled the top of his head, sighing heavily. "Baby boy, you're gonna make your Momma's life pretty damned interesting." Raj growled squeakily and tried to nurse off my fingers. "Okay, okay, we'll get you a bottle."

Chuckling, Hank led the way up the back stairs to the kitchen, and I whispered into Raj's soft rounded ear, "Wouldn't give you up though, baby boy. Not for anything."


End file.
